


Take the Shot

by shanology



Series: Losing Control [3]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Hand Jobs, M/M, Shameless Smut, Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-07-07
Updated: 2014-07-07
Packaged: 2018-02-07 20:10:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,690
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1912182
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shanology/pseuds/shanology
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clint and Bucky are on their first mission together. Bucky disobeys a direct order, and when Clint confronts him, things get...heated. Very heated.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Take the Shot

**Author's Note:**

> The "Losing Control" series is going to be all about Bucky Barnes rediscovering himself after he returns to Steve's life and joins up with the Avengers. For this series, I'm assuming that Bucky regains all of his memories pretty quickly after the events of Captain America 2 (http://shanology.tumblr.com/post/89136730640/bucky-remembers-everything), but emotionally he's still a mess. In "Losing Control", Bucky's going to be figuring out what he wants and needs, and how to go about getting it.
> 
> Ultimately, what Bucky needs will be Steve, but there will be a lot of hiccups along the way as they both figure that out and come to terms with it. In the meantime, Bucky's going to have some adventures with Clint and Natasha (and maybe others), but when all is said and done, Stucky will triumph. I'm going to try to write each story in such a way that if there's a particular pairing you're just not into, you can skip that installment and not end up too lost.
> 
> Also, my apologies for the fact that this series was written slightly out of order - somehow this started with a Clint/Bucky fic and then I had to backtrack to explain how Bucky ended up in the right mindset to be messing around in a cabin with Clint Barton.

On missions like this, Clint Barton is used to being alone. When it was a one-target, one-shot type of thing, S.H.I.E.L.D. would drop him wherever he needed to be, and expect that he’d make that shot and get the fuck outta there with minimum fuss. It had been months, though, since S.H.I.E.L.D. disintegrated, and the Avengers had rallied the agents they could trust behind Phil Coulson – maybe the one person on earth that everyone could agree had never, ever been Hydra. Coulson ran things a little differently, which meant that Clint had backup this time. He was currently making excellent use of that backup by taking an actual piss break, trusting that Sergeant James Barnes would keep an eye out for the target.

It surprised Clint to find that he did actually trust Bucky to keep an eye on things. He didn’t know him that well – they’d trained together at the Tower, and been out for coffee a couple of times at Steve’s urging – but they were surprisingly in tune with each other. Probably because they’d both had their minds taken over and their bodies used to hurt people they cared about, but damned if either of them was going to talk about that. Clint might prefer his arrows to Bucky’s .308 Winchesters, but still, he felt like the guy was solid and if he couldn’t take the shot, he was certain Barnes would. In the day and a half they’d been waiting in these damned woods for the target to show himself, Bucky hadn’t filled their coms with chatter or pissed him off in any way. Not pissing him off was an excellent way to earn Clint’s respect.

Zipping his pants, he let Barnes know that he was back in position, and grabbed his binoculars to keep watching the estate. He didn’t know who the target was or what he’d done – all they’d been given was a photo, and the intel that he’d be visiting this remote country manor for five days. At some point, they had to hope like hell that the target would decide to make use of the pool, because that was the only place on the grounds where they could reasonably make a shot from the cover of the woods. He and Barnes were spaced out to take maximum advantage of their particular specialties, and to cover as wide of a field as possible. If and when one of them actually made the kill, they’d have to run like hell for the rendezvous point a couple of miles away where they’d stashed their vehicle, and then make for an even more remote location where Coulson would arrange an extraction.

When Clint’s com crackles in his ear, it’s not unexpected – it’s Bucky’s turn for a break now. Clint is stunned, however, to hear Barnes mutter, “I’ve got the shot.”

What the fuck? Clint is staring right at the pool, sweeping his binoculars all across the lawn, and absolutely _nobody_ is there. Barnes does _not_ have the shot, no target in sight. Is he joking? Clint starts quartering the grounds, looking for anything that makes sense, and…no. _No._ He has to be fucking joking. Because the target is not at the pool – he’s strolling along the third floor balcony, a good thirty meters further from Bucky’s position than the pool. Clint makes the calculations instantly. The original shot was already eight hundred meters; with the added distance and the fifteen mile per hour left-to-right cross wind, there is absolutely no way Barnes can make that shot.

Clint is, officially, the leader of this merry misadventure, and he jumps on the radio. “Stand down, Barnes. You can’t make that shot and we can’t afford to spook them. We’ve still got three days left; he’s gonna go for a swim sometime.” There’s a moment of silence. Then Barnes replies steadily, “I have the shot.” And Clint knows he is _fucked_ , because he’s heard that tone in his own voice. He jumps up and starts grabbing his gear; there’s no point in arguing this any further. The little shit is gonna take that shot, he’s gonna miss, the target’s security will be alerted, and they are gonna have to haul ass for their vehicle without completing the mission. But in approximately two hours, they’ll be safely in the cabin Coulson found for them.

Then, and only then, will Clint murder his partner.

He’s ready to go in just moments, and trains his binoculars on the house again. He wants some idea of how security reacts; maybe they’ll get lucky and somehow the target’s men won’t notice a bullet taking out, say, a rhododendron? Maybe. But odds are he’s gonna have to make a run for it, and he’s just watching for the “go” signal of a bunch of heavily armed guards taking off to search the woods. Any second now…. _the target staggers and falls to the ground, courtesy of the new hole in his forehead._ Clint almost drops the binoculars because _holy fucking shit on a stick the kid made the shot_. Clint lights out for the rendezvous point and hopes Barnes is doing the same.

Because he’s still going to kill him.

***

Clint reaches the car winded from his sprint, tosses his gear in, and is ready to go before Bucky’s ass hits the passenger seat. The kid hadn’t been far behind him and wasn’t winded at all, which Clint assures himself is because of the serum pouring through Barnes’s veins and in no way related to Clint’s age. They drive in silence, going from remote country roads to even more remote tracks that can’t possibly count as roads until they reach the safehouse Coulson has picked out for them. Clint had signaled in the successful mission while he waited for Bucky’s arrival, so an extraction team will arrive for them in the morning. Allowing approximately sixteen hours for him to tear the kid to shreds for not following protocol.

Clint waits until they’re inside and they’ve dumped their gear, because that is what responsible, mature mission leaders do – they kill their teammates in private. The cabin is small, but has everything they need to make it through the night: a couple of double beds, a small kitchenette stocked with non-perishables, and a bathroom with a shower that hopefully runs hot water, because they both smell exactly like they’ve run a couple of miles through the woods at a sprint after camping out in said woods for two days. Clint really, really wants to test out the hot-water-in-the-shower theory, but figures it’s his sacred duty to yell at Barnes first.

“I told you. Not. To take. The shot.” This is stating the obvious, but Clint figures he’d better lead with “how you fucked up” before moving the discussion into “ways I’m going to fuck you up for having fucked up”. Barnes has clearly been expecting this, because he turns to face Clint with defiance in his eyes. And oh, defiance is not the look that’s going to make this go down any easier.

“I made the fucking shot, didn’t I?” Bucky demands, a combination of pride and anger and something else Clint can’t identify in his tone. But it’s beside the point, making the shot (although it was fucking amazing and _how the hell did he do that?_ ) isn’t the point; the point is that he was never supposed to take it in the first place. Clint growls, “It wasn’t your call to make, Barnes. You got fucking lucky on a miracle shot, and you put the success of the mission in jeopardy for a fucking one-in-a-million chance that you could do it.” Barnes is now pacing back and forth like a caged animal, but he looks up at this last bit, and prowls closer, expression fierce.

“Miracle? I could make that shot in my sleep, Barton. Do you think I just went, hey, seems like a nice time for some target practice? I _knew_ I could make it. You made the wrong call, wanted to wait for a safe bet, and if I’d listened to you, we might still be sitting in the woods three days from now hoping the guy decides to go for a fucking swim.” Bucky is coiled energy, his hands balled into fists, invading Clint’s personal space like he has absolutely no fucking fear and _oh holy fuck._ Clint realizes that this whole situation is about to go from goatfuck to really goddamn awkward.

Sometimes, Clint forgets how young Bucky Barnes actually is. Yeah, he might have been born back in the Stone Age, but if you add up the number of years he’s actually been walking around and interacting with people instead of getting stuck as a popsicle or a robot, the kid’s not even thirty years old. Maybe Clint’s been in the game too long, maybe he’s jaded, but compared to him, Barnes is a baby. Bucky’s missions have either been during the chaos of war – with every single feeling raging at once and no chance to react to any of them – or with the cold, programmed calm of the Winter Soldier. Clint’s pretty sure this is the first time he’s actually had time to wind down from a mission. And that means Barnes hasn’t caught on to what’s going on inside him, hasn’t learned to identify and counter all of the reactions that come with the surge of adrenaline from a mission like this. People always talk about the “fight or flight” instinct, but Clint learned long ago that after making a spectacular clean shot followed by a clean escape, where the body really goes is “fight or fuck.”

Clint can see the instinct raging through Bucky right now – his whole body is shaking, muscles tight, and his very posture says he either needs to slam his fist into something or slam _himself_ into _someone_. But it’s pretty clear the kid hasn’t figured it out yet, what he’s working towards, what he’s getting himself into – he’s so tied in knots all he can do is feel, not analyze. Which means it’s up to Clint to defuse the hell out of the bomb that is Bucky. If Barnes follows through on either of the things his body wants, this situation is going downhill, fast.

A fight – well, that Clint could handle. The bionic arm might do some damage though, and the last thing either of them needs is to get a lecture from Coulson when they get home over their inability to get along for three fucking days. Plus, between the serum and the arm, Clint’s pretty certain the kid could kick his ass if he got serious about it. But that’s something he’s not about to admit to anybody and he sure as fuck doesn’t need it proven for the whole team to hear about. The real problem is with the “fuck” side of things though. Clint has to head things off before there’s even a chance of veering down that path to crazytown, even if it means backpedaling.

“Look, Barnes, it was an amazing shot. Fucking amazing,” he adds, his tone gentle. Clint leans back against the wall, posture relaxed, radiating look-at-me-I’m-no-threat calm. “But the only way these missions work is if there’s one person calling the shots – literally – and that’s me this round. Would we have had another chance? I dunno. But we definitely wouldn’t have gotten one if you’d missed.” He keeps his breathing slow and even, and watches with relief as Bucky’s unconsciously adjusts to match.

Shit, though, maybe he should have just gone for the fight, because now that Barnes is calming down, thinking a bit, he can take stock of what’s going on. Clint can see it in Bucky’s eyes – the exact moment when the adrenaline eases off and his brain takes over again, when he realizes how close he’s standing to Clint and what’s happening physically and _yep, there we go, Barnes has figured out the game his body is playing._ And now things will get damned weird and awkward – which is what Clint was trying to avoid – because from everything he’s heard about Bucky Barnes in the pre-war days, the man was pretty heavy into women. From everything he’s seen since the guy came back, if he were going to change that for any man, it’d be for Steve Rogers – assuming they’re not doing that already. Either way, realizing that his dick has decided to take an interest in his same-sex teammate he barely knows while they’re trapped in a remote cabin together for the rest of the night is going to make Barnes freak the fuck out.

Except the look on the kid’s face isn’t exactly freaked out. It’s not happy, not comfortable, but not freaked out. Clint watches Bucky, Bucky watches Clint, and it’s damned ridiculous because it’s obvious that Bucky knows what’s going on, and knows that Clint knows what’s going on, and they’re just staring at each other while they both pretend that _nothing is going on_. Bucky works his jaw a couple of times like he’s going to say something, but never quite gets the words out, and Clint just watches him, waiting to see how he’s going to react. Because the straight truth – hah – is that Bucky hasn’t backed away. He’s just standing there, tension slowly easing out of his muscles while he watches Clint with something like…fear?

And it hadn’t occurred to Clint before, but yeah, this guy hasn’t been around people in a looong time. The last time Barnes was running loose and able to be attracted to anyone, letting another man find out you were attracted to him probably would’ve gotten you an ass-kicking, if not arrested. So yeah, Bucky is standing there like a deer in the headlights because he’s waiting to see if Clint’s going to be even more angry over this than he was over the kid taking the damned shot.

No matter how awkward things get, there’s no way he can leave the kid feeling like Clint’s going to judge him for this. Clint may be a dick, but he’s not a complete asshole. So he looks Barnes in the eye, and says softly, “For the record, I’d be up for it. If that’s what you’re wondering.” The look on Bucky’s face tells him that was the right thing to say, because he’s never seen such relief. The guy really had been waiting to get the shit kicked out of him for even _thinking_ what he was thinking, and now instead he’s looking…intrigued? Maybe Clint had been wrong about where Bucky’s interests lay.

Well. They seem to have moved beyond the “fight” option and Barnes looks like he’s plenty willing to discuss Plan B, but as far as Clint’s concerned, there’s still a few looming questions here. The most important one being, “What about Rogers?”

Bucky blushes… _holy crap the guy can still blush?_...and looks away. “We’ve never…I mean, we don’t…” He sighs and looks frustrated, then meets Clint’s gaze. “Steve Rogers has never expressed one goddamn opinion about who I fuck or don’t fuck.” And clearly _that_ was a sore subject, but Clint’s not here to play relationship counselor. His only point had been to make sure that this wouldn’t be a betrayal of a man he actually respects, and clearly, Rogers has yet to stake a claim.

Not that Clint is actually looking to stake a claim on Barnes; anything that happens tonight would just be a couple of friends letting off tension. And tension is one thing the room is practically vibrating with at this point. Barnes hasn’t moved away, and Clint’s question seems to have encouraged him that _yeah, this is a direction we might actually be going_ , because he’s looking Clint up and down with a definite “hello, soldier” vibe. Not that Clint isn’t doing some looking of his own – he’d had a distinct appreciation for Bucky since they first met, but it’d been like admiring the beauty of a painting that you know you can’t afford. Now, with the possibility on the table of actually touching Barnes, his fascination with the man’s mouth has taken over his brain. The kid is definitely good-looking as all hell, and Clint has to admit he’s had more than a few fantasies about what that bionic arm might be capable of. Still, nothing he’d ever heard about Bucky Barnes had mentioned him being interested in guys, and Clint needs to make sure the kid is actually on board with this. Goddammit he hates being the responsible one.

“This something you actually want?” he asks quietly, giving Bucky an easy out to walk away now, no questions asked. But he doesn’t take the out; instead, it’s like another person takes over his body. Sergeant James Barnes, sniper extraordinaire and former master assassin, just slips away and Clint finds himself looking at Bucky, charming ladies’ man. The look in Bucky’s eyes is pure sex, and that sinful mouth slips into a sly grin; his entire stance changes from “I might hit you” to “c’mere baby and let me show you a good time.” To Clint’s surprise, it’s Bucky who makes the first move, reaching out to stroke his right hand – the human hand – softly down the side of Clint’s jaw. Suddenly the question of whether or not Bucky has been with a man before doesn’t seem at all important in the face of the fact that he obviously wants to be with a man _now_.

Bucky leans closer, all seduction, giving Clint plenty of time as he murmurs, “Are you sure it’s something _you_ want?” Clint doesn’t answer beyond licking his lips, but apparently that’s enough, because Bucky’s mouth is pressing against his and _whoa_. Whoever Barnes was doing back in the ‘40s, he sure as hell was getting practice with _someone_ , because the man can kiss like a dream. Those fuck-me lips part just enough for Bucky’s tongue to be sliding across Clint’s mouth, requesting entrance, and Clint is more than happy to give it to him. The other man’s tongue explores his mouth – slowly at first, but definitely confident, sliding against Clint’s own with the ease of someone who knows exactly how good he is at this. Bucky leans in closer until he’s pressing against Clint from shoulders to knees, and Clint’s pinned against the wall, and damn this was not how he expected the night to go but he’s sure as fuck glad it’s going there.

For several minutes, it’s just their mouths moving, bodies pressed tightly against each other but hands staying out of the game as they test each other’s limits. Clint tries to take over the kiss, sliding his tongue into Bucky’s mouth, but it quickly turns into a duel for dominance and he decides to let Barnes have the win…for now. Bucky acknowledges the retreat with a soft grin against Clint’s mouth, and rewards him by finally taking his hands off the wall on either side of Clint’s shoulders and resting them gently on Clint’s hips. He squeezes – not tight, but enough for Clint to feel the strength in that metal hand and appreciate the way Bucky’s thumbs slip ever so slightly into the waistband of his pants. Barnes keeps the kiss going as he starts to rock his hips slowly, letting Clint feel the hardness of his cock through their pants, and yeah, the kid is _definitely_ on board for this.

Clint’s body is happy to respond in kind, and he can’t help the subtle shift of his hips that lines his cock up with Bucky’s. They’re rubbing against each other like cats in heat, but still testing, figuring out how far this is going to go. And the answer seems to be “further,” because Barnes has slipped his hands between them to undo Clint’s pants. His moves are swift and there’s no hesitation as he drops Clint’s pants down to his knees, his dick hard as a rock as it springs free. Then Bucky’s metal hand is holding Clint’s hips in place as he uses his right hand to stroke Clint, firm and sure and skilled and _holy crap the kid is so, so much better at this than Clint even could have fantasized._

Clint finally breaks away from the kiss, catching his breath on a moan as Bucky’s strokes become faster, tighter. And the little shit is grinning at him, enjoying the hell out of this, loving the way Clint’s hips are struggling to thrust in counterpoint to his strokes but that damned bionic hand has him pinned tight against the wall. Clint growls, “Let me move, you ass…” but Bucky just winks at him… _he is so gonna get him for this_ …before dropping to his knees.

“You sure you want to move, Clint?” he drawls softly. He’s not touching Clint at all now, just kneeling there with a smirk on his face, and Clint can’t focus on anything but how close those lips are to his dick and _damn he wants that_. Clint nods, conceding the lead again, and leans back against the wall. Damned if he’s ever played this docile before, but he’s willing to stand down if it means getting Barnes’s mouth wrapped around him. And Barnes knows it, gracefully acknowledges the concession with a quick tilt of his head before leaning forward to lick Clint’s cock with one long, slow stroke.

Fuck. _Fuck_. The combination of Barnes’s tongue and that model-perfect face and the look in his eyes – like he’s never tasted anything better than Clint and can’t wait to get more – it’s all Clint can do not to lose it and start thrusting into the kid’s mouth right then and there. But he’s agreed to this, maybe not in words, but they’ve definitely reached an understanding. Barnes wants the lead, maybe needs the lead, and Clint wants this to happen more than he wants to be on top. So he keeps his hips pinned to the wall even as Bucky begins licking him in soft, tiny strokes like a cat – even as he’s groaning Bucky’s name – but he can’t help it, almost doesn’t realize it when he reaches out one hand to wrap it in the man’s soft, thick hair.

Barnes freezes instantly, and his eyes shoot up to meet Clint’s. But Clint keeps his grip loose, soft – he’s not trying to control things, just wants to touch, needs to feel. Bucky takes a breath and, still meeting Clint’s eyes, opens his mouth to slide down over Clint’s cock. _All the fucking way_ and “damn that feels good….FUCK,” Clint groans as Bucky begins swirling his tongue around his dick. His hand clenches and unclenches in that wavy hair, but he lets Barnes set the pace completely. He slides his head up and down, sucking hard as he slowly draws Clint’s cock almost all the way out of his mouth before quickly sliding back on until those lips are kissing his belly. It’s better than Clint expected and maybe better than he can handle and he pants, “If you keep going, I’m gonna finish like this, so….” He trails off, he’s not the one calling the shots here and he has to leave it up to Barnes how this is going to go.

The asshole laughs – _laughs_ – around Clint’s cock, but Clint’s not gonna be angry because it might be the best thing he’s ever felt. Definitely in the top ten. Still, Bucky slowly eases off, promising, “Maybe next time.” _Next time_? Clint isn’t even sure he’s going to survive this time, and there’s going to be a next time? He barely registers that Barnes has moved until their mouths are pressed together again, and Bucky’s hand is between them again, except this time he’s dropping his own pants. Clint breaks free for a quick look, and yeah, the man is every bit as beautiful everywhere and how the fuck can that be fair? But his attention is yanked back when Bucky grabs his wrist, slowly easing Clint’s hand toward his face before using that amazing, talented, wicked tongue to _lick him_. He stares straight into Clint’s eyes as he slides his tongue over Clint’s palm, between his fingers, sucking each one into his mouth in turn and “fuck, you have to stop...too goddamn good and I’m not gonna last… _Barnes_ ” he pleads. That smirk returns, and Bucky murmurs, “It’s okay baby, I’ll let you cum soon.” Clint is gonna kill him for that – _seriously, baby?_ – but later. Because now Barnes is guiding Clint’s hand down, and his fingers are being gently wrapped around Bucky’s cock and guided in the rhythm Barnes wants.

Barnes sucks in a breath, and finally, _finally_ , he seems to be losing control just a little bit. His movements are jerky as he wraps his hand around Clint’s cock and begins stroking him in the same rhythm, and damn it, Clint really wonders about that metal hand but Barnes keeps that one firmly placed on the wall, supporting him as he leans forward, breathing hard. Clint was already so close, and it’s not going to take much for him to finish, but there is no fucking way he is shooting off first. He’s already let the kid have control of the whole damned thing and he’s got to reassert himself somewhere here, dammit, so he increases his pace and squeezes tighter and adds a little twist and starts moving his thumb just right, and yeah, _that’s_ breaking through Barnes’s walls. His eyes are wide and that luscious mouth is hanging open slightly and _yes_ that was definitely a whimper coming from Bucky’s throat. Clint grins, but shit, he shouldn’t have, because Bucky saw that and now it’s a competition again.

Now Barnes is moving and _oh hell oh fuck_ the metal hand is wrapped around Clint’s balls and who knew he had that much fine motor skill to work with? Bucky is still jerking him off, fast and tight and smooth and perfect, but now the other hand is rolling Clint’s balls gently as Bucky stares him right in the eye, grinning like a madman. Clint hasn’t had control over this situation from the start, he was never going to get control, there’s no fucking way he’s winning this one, and he cums hard and fast as a shout is ripped from his throat. But he’s not leaving Barnes hanging, no damn way, so even as his own orgasm leaves him gasping he finally comes off the wall to meet Bucky’s mouth with his own as he strokes him harder, faster. This time it’s Barnes moaning, shaking, coming apart hot and wet all over Clint’s hand, and then they’re just standing there, still gripping each other’s dicks softly and breathing heavily, leaning against each other.

At some point, they each let go, meeting each other’s gaze cautiously. Clint’s waiting for the awkward to hit any minute because yeah, they’ve both got their pants around their ankles and they’re covered in each other’s cum and they don’t really know each other and this was _not_ in the mission parameters. But Barnes is smoother than he expected, or maybe yeah he _has_ done this before, because he just flashes that devilish grin and announces, “Dibs on the first shower.” The little shit makes good on it by yanking his pants up enough to walk into the bathroom, shutting the door behind him.

Clint’s left standing half-dressed in the bedroom as he listens to the shower turn on. Barnes had better not use all the hot water, assuming there was any to begin with. He doesn’t know what they’re going to say to each other once they’re both cleaned up, but he’s beginning to suspect they won’t have to say anything, because the kid is acting surprisingly…mature about this.

He’s going to have to talk to Coulson, though. Someone needs to let him know that Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes isn’t likely to follow orders from anyone – the guy definitely likes to be in charge.


End file.
